


Bad Habits

by Icicle



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Drunk Sex, Enemies to Lovers, Freeform, Love/Hate, M/M, POV Yuri Plisetsky, Pliroy, Post-Canon, Rivalry, Sad Yuri Plisetsky, Secret Relationship, Short One Shot, Tequila, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-03-18
Packaged: 2019-04-04 01:10:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14008911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Icicle/pseuds/Icicle
Summary: Yuri's sixteen now, and a fuck is a fuck. He craves a dick in his hole, filling him up, splitting him open, not allowing him to walk straight for a week. Fuck, he needs it. And if said dick is attached to possibly the most arrogant and obnoxious man he's ever met, then Yuri tries his best to suck it up.





	Bad Habits

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much to **ashiiblack** , **blownwish** , **phayte** , and **annabeth**! You all inspire me so much with your wonderful writing and love of pliroy that I decided to try one of my own.
> 
> This short piece is kind of an experiment with writing styles and trying to get deep into Yuri's head.

 

Yuri stands in front of that arrogant Canadian fucker’s hotel room, trying to find the courage to knock. He sways from side to side and tugs on the untucked tails of his white dress shirt. The growing acid in his stomach churns uncomfortably. His sweaty hair sticks to the back of his neck.

It's just fucking.

At least that's what he tells himself. And it only happens when he's had one too many tequila shots or spends too much time with the geezer and his pet pig. Watching them get all gross and slobber over each other, always drives him to drink too much.

He tries not to think about why that may be – why it bothers him to watch Victor run his fingers through Yuuri's hair – how Katsudon’s entire face turns pink and Victor acts like nobody else in the room matters. Or why watching Beka lean in a bit too close and laugh at one of Mila's terrible jokes makes him wish she _had_ followed her hockey player ex-boyfriend to America when he'd been offered a spot in the NHL.

Yuri may be Russian, but he's kind of a lightweight. Alcohol affects him a little too much, loosening his already questionable inhibitions, pushing his hormones into overdrive, forcing his unrequited crush on Otabek to consume him.

He's sixteen now, and a fuck is a fuck. He craves a dick in his hole, filling him up, splitting him open, not allowing him to walk straight for a week. Fuck, he _needs_ it. And if said dick is attached to possibly the most arrogant and obnoxious man he's ever met, then Yuri tries his best to suck it up.

There aren't many skaters in the men's division that are willing to fuck a sixteen-year-old, even if Yuri is the best fucking skater in the world. He might not be cool and mysterious like Beka or have Victor’s stupid muscles or even Giacometti's ridiculous abs, but Yuri _knows_ he's attractive.

He's seen the way people look at him, practically drooling over his lithe frame, his long hair, both men and women alike. And Yuri plans to use every advantage he has, especially with _this_ idiot, who doesn’t turn him away no matter how much Yuri insults him.

It's always the same. All the months they've been doing this. Their arrangement or whatever the fuck this is...because they sure as hell aren't lovers.

After a miserable fucking night, where he feels like he can't breathe, like he's drowning in his own mind, Yuri seeks out JJ. They fuck each other raw – neither caring about each other's pleasure, insults flying, and Yuri’s dick harder than it's ever been in his life. He leaves red marks all over Leroy's body and wakes up covered in his own bruises – with a headache the size of JJ's ego. Every morning after, he tells himself that was the last time. Yet, inevitably he finds himself outside of JJ’s door again.

Yuri itches to yank out his hair, to tug on the soft strands and pull them out of their follicles, along with his sanity. He needs to grow out of this bad habit. If not, Lilia will surely kill him. Instead, he tears the sleeve of his shirt, ripping it sharply, digging his nails into his wrist. God, he’s pathetic. He’s the fucking best figure skater in the world, by a mile, securing victories at not only the Grand Prix final but Europeans and Four Continents too. He should be flying high, celebrating his string of gold medals – the way he’s upstaged Victor’s comeback and continued besting the pig.

But all he can think about is how happy the pig seems with yet another silver medal – how Victor kissed the medal and then bowed down and kissed his skate – as if it were actually worth something, when it was _Yuri_ who actually fucking won. Since when did silver mean anything other than defeat?

They’re Russian. It’s gold or nothing.

And Beka, his supposed best friend, he isn’t much better. He failed to the make the podium. Again. Yuri thought he’d be crushed – that he’d get to spend the night comforting him. Instead, he’s off making googly eyes at Mila, celebrating _her_ victory, as if that actually matters, as if women’s figure skating is actually relevant. They don’t even do quads.

Yuri wants to scream. He doesn't know how his life came to this, how the only person he has to turn to is JJ fucking Leroy, but Yuri needs to forget. When alcohol isn't enough, JJ is his only alternative, the only thing that will satisfy him.

But he's floundered enough. Delaying the inevitable will only make him more miserable. He might as well get it over with. Taking a deep breath, Yuri knocks on the door. Loudly. When he doesn't receive a response, Yuri knocks again, much louder, and yells, “Open up fucker! Open up now…you god damn—”

Before Yuri can finish his sentence, Leroy opens the door. “There's no need for name calling.” He leans against the doorway, half-naked, a white towel around his waist, wet hair clinging to his head, the outline of his cock flush against his thigh. Yuri tries not to stare.

“I was in the shower, no need to make a fuss.” He eyes Yuri suggestively. “You know you're always welcome here, Princess.”

Yuri shoves his way into the doorway, trapping JJ against the door. “I swear to God, Leroy, if you start any of that princess shit tonight, I'll fucking choke you in your sleep.”

“Kinky.” JJ tilts his chin up and gives a wry chuckle. “Why don't you let me go and we can take this inside.” When Yuri doesn’t move, JJ rolls his eyes. “You're making a scene. Wouldn't want anyone to know you're here, right?”

Even in his drunken state, Yuri knows that JJ is right. No one can know that he spends his nights in Leroy's hotel room, that he's actually that desperate. “Just keep your mouth shut for once.” Yuri huffs and releases his hold on JJ. “I'm not in the mood for talking.”

JJ flashes a smug grin and ushers him inside. “Anything you say, Yuri-chan.”

As soon as he closes the door behind them, JJ pushes Yuri against a wall and kisses him. He tangles his hands in Yuri’s hair and bites down on his bottom lip until he draws blood. Yuri moans into JJ’s mouth and instantly feels better – his worries, pain, and unrequited crush momentarily forgotten.

JJ leads him to the bed, motioning for Yuri to lift his arms so JJ can undress him. Yuri lets him. He closes his eyes and gives up control to JJ. This is exactly what he needs, what he craves, his own twisted version of penance.

The tequila must’ve hit Yuri harder than he realized. The entire room is spinning and his body feels numb, but it doesn’t matter. JJ will make him feel again. He always does.

Yuri knows that he’ll regret this in the morning and want to punch Leroy in his smug face. He doesn’t give a shit.

No matter how bad a habit, he will always crave Jean-Jacques Leroy.

 

* * *

**A/N:** Thanks so much for reading. Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated, especially since this is my first attempt at pliroy!

Find me on[ tumblr](http://icicle33.tumblr.com) if you want to scream about HP or Yuri on Ice ♥

 


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